Page 91 of When the Smoke Clears

“Oh?” I run a hand through my wet hair. “Why doesn’t she talk to me herself?”

He hands me a coffee mug and opens the drawer, displaying a vast selection of K-Cups. “Because she thinks you’ll be honest with me.”

“About?” I pick a random one and pop it into the Keurig.

“Everleigh.”

“What about her?” I lean against the counter and cross my arms as Fitz sips his coffee.

“Jamie seems to think you and Everleigh were sharing a lot of long glances last night. She wants me to ask if you’ve slept with her.”

“I took her virginity. I thought that was well established.”

“Listen. I don’t give a damn who you screw as long as it’s not my wife. So just cut the crap. Is there something going on?”

“No.”

“Great. Good talk. We hiking today? It’s supposed to get into the upper forties.”

I deflate. “There was a kiss. Well, more than one.”

Fitz drops his head back, face pointed at the ceiling, eyes closed.

“And if this is a full confession, I’ve checked out her new tits, and there was a finger—”

“Nope. I’m not your priest. Forget I asked. If Jamie wants details, she can ask you herself. Now, I promised I’d grab a few groceries for dinner tomorrow, then we can hike. Maren and Ozzy are going too.” He pulls a bagel from the bag and spreads cream cheese on it.

“Here’s the thing . . .”

“Will, we don’t have to do this. I honestly don’t care. For all I know, you were screwing her nonstop until the day you left.” Fitz takes a bite of his bagel and chews it slowly, eyeing me before shrugging. “And that’s cool, man,” he mumbles. “This time, you’re both consenting adults.”

I scratch my forehead with my middle finger, and he snickers.

“Have you seen her place?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“She spent a pretty penny on it. For someone who drives a used Subaru, she spared nothing in buying those ten acres. I’d be happy living on that land in her Airstream.”

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles over a bite of bagel. “But it’s just across the road from the Delanys’ ranch. In case you’re wondering.”

“I’m not.” I sip my coffee.

“Well, I’ll be ready by one. So if you have any errands to run or people you’d like to visit, that’s the timeline.”

“You’re an asshole. I didn’t need to know where she’s living.”

Fitz smirks before taking the rest of his bagel upstairs.

By eight, I pull onto the long drive across from the Delanys’ and park next to the Airstream.

Everleigh’s barndominium is dark blue with black trim and huge windows. I knock on her Airstream door, but there’s no answer, so I head toward the barn, slowly opening the unlocked front door. Stacks of wood studs, plates, and headers fill the center of the space. Everleigh is in the far corner, next to a miter saw, marking a board with a pencil and then sliding it behind her ear. She’s dressed the part, in faded jeans, brown work boots, a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a bandanna holding back her hair. Who would have thought this version of a woman would turn me on the most?

“Coffee?” I hold up the latte I grabbed on the way here.

She looks at me and slides her safety glasses onto her head.